(Werewolf) Sex In The City
by hbrackett
Summary: NOT A CROSSOVER! I can't handle all of the changes in the show, so this is non-canon slightly OOC Sterek. Stiles moves to NYC to pursue a journalistic career. A shocking discovery about one of his neighbors leads to a promising romance. An advice column that suspiciously mirrors his new relationship, grumpy werewolf relatives and a dark shadow from Derek's past emerge.
1. Chapter 1

Stiles unpacked the first box and sighed, looking around at his empty apartment. After the mania of graduating from Beacon Hills High School, the stillness was starting to get to him. Not that it was silent…Manhattan was anything but silent. Sirens were constantly wailing, people on the street were yelling, shouting, laughing or cursing at all hours. The neighborhood was in the process of urban renewal from a distinctly shady history. Neighborhood watch fliers hung everywhere, and one had even been slipped under his door two seconds after he shut it after himself. The apartment was reasonably priced, though the security and deposit ate up most of his savings. He flatly refused to allow his father to give him any money, and the Sheriff flatly refused to let Stiles sell his beloved Jeep which was now sitting in the Stilinski garage for the foreseeable future. His new job began on Monday at the _Urban Gazette_, a little paper that was mostly advertisements as well as some community news, weather and celebrity gossip. Stiles had been put in charge of two columns; one was an advice column while the other would include any human interest stories Stiles felt like writing about.

_'The Empty Apartment'_ could be the first one he wrote…if his Mac weren't still in the boxes. Stiles sighed and got back to work.

Later, he sat out on his sixth floor fire escape with a box of Cheezits (his dinner until the first paycheck cleared) with a lovely can of warm RC Cola (his fridge had the cooling powers of a giant paperweight). The full moon rode high in the sky, working together with the light pollution to obliterate even the brightest stars. His trusty binoculars were of no help finding them either. Back in Beacon Hills, especially in the Preserve away from town proper, the night sky was packed with pinpoints of light. The lack only served to accentuate his loneliness…it was a reminder about how far away he was from everything he knew.

Some movement drew his attention.

The building was a huge square (much like Stiles, Lydia would have said) with an open courtyard in the middle. In one of the apartment windows across the way, he could see a man bursting through his door and frantically locking it behind him. To Stiles' amazement, the man tore his clothes off his ridiculously muscled body. Feeling only slightly ashamed, Stiles picked up his binoculars to get a better peek.

The man moved a tall book case away from the wall to reveal a hole in the drywall and exposing the bricks beneath. Three manacle clamps were fixed at shoulder height, the larger middle set slightly higher than the others. As Stiles watched with fascination, the man put his back against the wall and fit his neck into the large clamp. His wrists went into the two smaller ones. Stiles swept the binoculars down the sculpted body slowly, drawn against his will to the man's shockingly large equipment before noticing that there were ankle clamps as well. The man punched in a code into a keypad in the wall just within reach of his fingers, and all of the clamps snicked shut. He breathed a great sigh of relief then.

Was this some kind of bizarre solo S & M thing? His father was right; there were all types in New York.

Stiles gave the man's perfect body the once-over a final time before sighing regretfully. Too bad he was a freak, Stiles might have taken a chance and asked him out to dinner.

He made to climb back in through his window when his eye was caught yet again. He stared into the window, his mouth open in shock. No, that could not be happening…

He snatched up the binoculars and gave a short scream.

The man had turned into a monster. Worse yet, when Stiles shouted, the man's bestial face snapped toward the sound and eyes that bled crimson light focused on him. The beast strained against the manacles, jaws snapping and snarling in vain. It sniffed wildly as if trying to catch Stiles' scent. Stiles screamed again and bolted into his own window before pulling the iron grating closed and locking it after. He slammed the window down and fled to his front door to make sure all 6 locks were secured and then barricaded himself into his bedroom.

Why did he ever refuse his father's offer to get him a gun for protection? What the hell was that thing?

His mind supplied a word he'd had almost no occasion to use throughout the course of his rather boring and uneventful life, and he didn't need the moonlight pouring into the bedroom to confirm it.

He was living in the same apartment building as a freaking werewolf.

He didn't have many options. The police would never believe him, even if he could get them to the guy's apartment, and he might be putting their lives in danger if he did. Stiles had been kept awake countless nights wondering if his father would be killed in the line of duty, and he had no desire to put another kid's dad in danger. Besides…if the guy was locking himself up, it meant he didn't want to hurt anybody, right? The big question was what would he do with Stiles once he turned human again? How would he feel about someone knowing his secret? He might feel obligated to silence him, a feat that his friends, teachers and father had so far failed to achieve. He knew without doubt the man would be coming for him in the morning. He would easily be able to work out which apartment was his and come pounding at his door. Stiles could always leave, but the guy would likely be able to track him like a bloodhound. It was time to do some Internet research.

Four hours later, Stiles was an authority on lycanthropy. He spent some additional time locating any shops that might be open and that would have what he needed. This being New York, he found an all-night shop that sold 'a variety of mystic wares for the modern practitioner of Wicca' and called to ask if they had what he needed. They did, and even offered delivery services as well. An hour later there was a knock on the door and Stiles reached through the gap allowed by the chain to snatch a package from a sleepy looking Goth girl in the hall. Stiles threw some bills at her and slammed the door shut, barely hearing her shout of 'Blessed Be!' as she collected her money and walked away.

Stiles opened the bottle of Mountain Ash and circled the perimeter of his apartment with it. If what the research said was true, this would keep out any unwanted furry visitors. Only when the task was done would Stiles pull off his clothes and allow himself to fall into an exhausted sleep on his bed. Predictably, he dreamt of being chased through the forest by snarling naked men though if the Sandman intended this as a nightmare, it was having the opposite effect. Stiles woke up spot-welded to his sheets and pulled free with an annoyed yip. He jumped in the shower and washed as quickly as possible when there was another knock on his door. He rinsed off and wrapped a towel around his waist before peeping though the eyepiece. No one was in the hall. Stiles unlocked and opened the door and peeked carefully up and down the hall. No one was there. Puzzled, he closed and locked the door and tossed his towel to the floor. He walked into his bedroom to find something clean to wear. He glanced at the window and shrieked. The guy from last night, now dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, was staring in at him. He had taped a note to the window. It read 'How do YOU like it?' in huge letters. Below, written in in smaller letters was a request to meet at the local Starbucks at noon as well as a phone number. The guy smirked at him and then vanished from the fire escape. Stiles took his clothes and ran into the bathroom to get dressed. When he was done, he went to the window and noticed a sticky note that was not there before.

It read: 'By the way…I'm impressed.'

{}{}{}{}

Stiles got no work done that morning at the paper. He just kept staring at the note in his hands and wondering what to do about it. The guy seemed harmless enough, in human form anyway. Besides, it would be a public place and the opportunity of a lifetime for the journalist in him.

12 O'clock found him sitting at the Starbucks, fretting nervously at the fact that he was about to meet a werewolf for the very first time. When the guy walked in, Stiles was already blitzing from drinking three high octane coffees in a row. The guy flowed into the booth across from him, causing Stiles to yelp. Several customers gave him amused glances.

The guy gave him a sharklike grin with his perfect teeth. Hazel eyes under thick eyebrows regarded him amusedly.

"I'm Derek Hale," he said, as if that explained everything.

"S-s-Stiles, Stiles Stilinski."

The dark eyebrows drew together. "Is that really a name?"

"I don't know, are you really a werewolf?"

The eyebrows shot up.

"A little louder there, Stiles. I don't think that hot dog vendor across the street heard you."

Stiles flushed. "Sorry, kneejerk reaction when people goof on my name."

"I wasn't making fun, I'd just never heard it before."

Stiles had no answer, so they spent a few minutes just staring at each other. Derek turned his head and ordered a coffee from the attendant.

"Did you tell anyone?" Derek asked conversationally.

"No. But don't think that means you can disappear me without consequences. My father's a Sheriff." Ha! Let's see what he thinks of that! The fact that said Sheriff was on the other side of the country was a factoid Derek didn't need to know.

"_Disappear_ you? Why would I want to do that?"

Stiles shrugged. "Because I know what you are…your secret identity or whatever."

"I change exactly once a month against my will…and even that will stop once I find a good anchor. The last time I changed on purpose was to stop someone from mugging me. It's not exactly the biggest part of who I am."

Stiles snorted at the words 'biggest part'.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Are we 12 years old, little Stiles?"

Stiles puffed out his chest. "I'm not little!"

"No, you aren't…I noticed that this morning."

"_Now_ who's 12 years old?"

"Ok, now that we've established that we're both well-equipped, what are we going to do about this?"

The attendant, who had just brought Derek's coffee over, snickered and walked away while Stiles gaped. "I don't even know you! I'm not _that_ easy!"

Now it was Derek's turn to gape. "I meant about my secret."

"Oh…well, as long as you don't try to hurt me or anything, I guess I won't tell anyone."

Derek seemed to be listening intently to something. "Okay, I believe you. I won't try to hurt you. But why were you spying on me?"

"Er…well I didn't mean to. I was out on the fire escape because I'm new here and was feeling pretty…well…isolated," Stiles didn't want to say 'alone'. "I just needed to feel like I was around people. It's different here. There are no stars, not like at home. That's what the binoculars were for…but I couldn't even see any stars…just the moon. Well that's what I was doing when I saw you come into your apartment and rip your clothes off and chain yourself to a wall. Sorry, don't think there are many who wouldn't find that…interesting."

"Yeah…guess it was my fault. The train was stopped on my way home from work. I usually get back well in time on my bad nights and make sure all the curtains are closed…but that night I cut it really close. Did it…scare you?" Derek looked away. His face lost its confident look, leaving him with a tired and defeated expression.

"Yeah, it did. I even surrounded my apartment with Mountain Ash to keep you out."

Derek winced. "I felt it. You're an amazing guy…the Ash does nothing without a Spark in the user…but there was no way I could break through your barrier. Not that I would have tried or anything…how did you know about that? You a werewolf expert or something?"

"Nah, googled it. Didn't know about the Spark thing though."

"Goddamned Internet…" Derek muttered. "Well, would you at least let me make it up to you for scaring the crap out of you? Coffee's on me. I have to run, let me know by noon tomorrow if you want to meet up." Derek stood up and tossed some bills on the table and walked out. Stiles stared after him before looking down at his cold coffee. A rapping at the window behind him made him shriek. Stiles turned to see Derek running off and a sticky pasted to the window: 'Two for flinching!'

Stiles was so distracted at work that his editor, Brynn Westlake had to snap her fingers in front of his eyes to get his attention. When he looked up and saw his fiery-haired (and fiery-eyed) boss, he yelped and fell out of his chair. This made her smile; she enjoyed having that effect on people, especially men.

"I want the advice column on my desk in half an hour. I want to make sure you're not telling people to do anything stupid. I'll send it back to you for editing and it needs to go to copy before you leave. It will be posted online tonight and in print tomorrow."

Stiles nodded and looked back at the pile of letters and printed emails on his desk, many of which had come in this morning. Part of his job would be to sort through them to find ones that would be interesting to readers without offending them.

_Dear Stiles;_

_ A lesbian couple just moved across the street from me. I don't want this neighborhood going to the dogs. What can I do to make this a decent neighborhood for right-minded, upstanding American citizens?_

_ Signed, The Watcher at the Window_

"You could have it worse, lady…you could have had werewolves move in." Stiles muttered. He frowned the, ashamed of himself. Derek might be a werewolf, but he seemed to be a regular guy (if a little obnoxious). Stiles had no cause to be prejudicial. Smiling, he thought of an appropriate response

'_Dear Watcher: How can you improve the neighborhood? Easy; just move! Also, stop looking in windows. You might see something that will change your world.'_

Stiles looked at the next one.

'_Dear Stiles; _

_ I'm new here and feel like I'm completely alone. I know it's a big city, but I felt more connected when I was in my small hometown. What can I do to meet people? Not exactly a clubber here._

_ Signed, Far from the Madding Crowds_

Wow, some of these letters were hitting close to home.

_Dear Madding;_

_ I'm dealing with the same thing. In my hometown, when someone new moved in we welcomed them with a little party. In New York, maybe you could do it and let your neighbors get to know you. You might find some kindred spirits. Best of luck, and be sensible about which neighbors you invite._

One more should do it for today's edition. He wasn't being allotted that much space yet for his column. He picked up the top email which had only just come in.

_Dear Stiles,_

_ I caught this hot guy peeking in my window while I was naked. At first I was angry, but now…I think I'm pretty attracted to him. How can I let him know without him thinking I'm a nut? I'm not even sure he'd be responsive. By the way, I'm a guy._

_ Signed, Desperately Seeking S._

Hot blood slammed into Stiles' face. Was Derek serious? Did he think this was the way to keep Stiles' ultra-sensitive freak alarm from going off?

_Dear Desperate;_

_You both sound like weirdos. Why not avoid the inevitable trainwreck and meet people the normal way? A word of advice...try closing your curtains next time._

Stiles put the text into the proper format, printed it, checked it for spelling and dropped it on Brynn's desk. Ten minutes later, she paged him to her office. He sat down in front of her nervously. This would be the first time he would be critiqued on his official work.

"Your response to 'Watcher at the Window' is brilliant, worthy of 'Dear Abby'. Surprised to find such an open mind from a small town native, but it fits right in with the New York City groove. 'Far from the Madding Crowd' is good too, I just hope whoever this is doesn't live next door to a serial killer. The only one I'm not happy with is 'Desperately Seeking S.' Sure, the way they met is unconventional, but it could turn out to be the love story of a lifetime that could really attract readers. You have no idea how much people love to read about that magical couple that was always meant to be…kind of like Sam Winchester and Castiel on that television show. Change it up, and encourage this guy to pursue it and also to write back. See if you can get a weekly therapy session going. Also, I've decided to bump you up to half a page for your column, and the other half for your human interest series which will debut next week. Good start, now get lost."

Stiles left, knowing it was useless to argue. He sat in front of his cubicle and redid his response to 'Desperate'.

_Dear Desperate; Try to learn some more about the guy before you make any major decisions. Without knowing your voyeur, I can't help you with your decision. Dinner in a nice crowded place sounds like a good idea. If he's not interested, he will definitely let you know. If he is, then it was meant to be. Write again and let me know how it goes._

Brynn approved the rewrite and asked how he was settling in. When he told her about the Cheezits dinner, she immediately wrote out a small advance check so he could do some food shopping. She made it out to Cash, and let him go early before the banks closed.

An hour later and he was wheeling a cart laden with a variety of cold cuts, bread and condiments along with ice for the fridge to keep them cold. He was just picking out his favorite sodas in the beverage aisle when his cart clanged against another.

Of course, it was a smiling Derek.

"Wow, did you track me here by smell Fido? This obsession is unhealthy," Stiles snarked at him, still annoyed over the advice column. Derek seemed to be invading every aspect of his life.

Derek's smile faded. "First, I don't appreciate dog jokes. Saying that to the wrong werewolf will get your throat ripped out. Second, I live in the same building that you do and have shopped here for years. Believe it or not, I wasn't looking for you and I sure as hell don't _obsess_ over you every second. You want me to leave you alone? Fine, you're alone. Enjoy yourself."

Derek stormed off after flashing Stiles a crimson-glare and leaving Stiles staring open-mouthed after him. Those last five words had a chilling effect on him.

"Derek! Hey, Derek! Wait up! It's just…" Stiles trailed off. If he accused Derek of being 'Desperate' from his advice column and he was wrong about it, Derek would call him a conceited egotistical asshole. While the letter certainly matched their situation, it was probably not the first or last time something like that had happened in a city this size. He would wait to ask the werewolf about it when he was in a friendlier frame of mind. But that meant apologizing and pursuing a friendship with someone with a dangerous condition. Should he take the risk and do it? Stiles wished _he_ had an advice column to write to.

Looking at Derek's handsome (and angry) face, Stiles decided to go for it. This was New York City…everything was freaking dangerous.

"Look, I'm sorry about the dumb joke. I didn't mean to offend you. We just started off…(Stiles searched for the right word, quickly discarding 'wrong' and 'weird') …oddly."

The scowl disappeared, but the eyebrows were still too close together.

"Yeah, we did, I can't argue with that." Derek took a deep breath and let his eyebrows return to their usual hangouts. "God, I'm no good at this. How about dinner after work tomorrow? I promise it won't be odd."

Stiles flailed in surprise, nearly knocking over a stack of soda bottles. Had Derek already read the online column? He _had_ to be 'Desperate!' "Huh? Dinner? Am I going to be the main course?"

Derek gave him a not-so-subtle once-over. "Maybe, though not in the way you think. I know this great upscale place in Greenwich Village."

Stiles flushed again. "Well, I can't afford anyplace like that…" Derek made to interrupt, but Stiles overrode him. "…and I know you'll probably offer to pay, but I'm not comfortable with that. How about I just make dinner in my apartment?"

"Will that be an issue? Your fridge is broken."

"How on earth did you know…" Stiles had images of Derek prowling around his apartment after he went to work. But how could he have gotten past the Ash?

Derek tapped his nose. "I could smell it from the fire escape…also I think something died in one of your walls."

"Gross. Ok…well I can just go shopping right before. I have some ice too that should last a while. I want it to be a surprise, so let me finish up and I'll see you tomorrow after work."

"Alright, at least let me bring some wine. White or red?"

Stiles was thinking that a werewolf might appreciate a steak dinner.

"Red…definitely red."

Derek flashed a grin at him that Stiles was rapidly coming to enjoy seeing on his face. They said their goodbyes and Stiles strolled off to the meat section to blow the rest of his advance money.

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The next day, Stiles was informed that his advice column had received over a thousand hits, and not a few people had logged appreciative comments. Many were eagerly awaiting 'Desperate's' next letter. 'Watcher' sent him an expletive-filled reply while 'Madding' thanked him for sound advice.

A new note from 'Desperate' came in after lunch when he was about to send the day's letters in to Brynn.

_Dear Stiles;_

_ I did what you advised and I am having dinner with S. tomorrow. He agreed, but he gets spooked easily like he's worried I'll do something weird. He likes to remind me of how we met. How can I put him at ease? I really want this to go somewhere. Sorry to keep asking for help like this._

Stiles thought about how he should reply. He felt more and more sure that this was Derek, but if it wasn't Derek it didn't seem fair to jeopardize someone else's chance at a relationship.

_Dear 'Desperate'_

_ Just don't go overboard. Take things slowly. It sounds like he needs to feel a little more in control of things, and playing your hand too strongly WILL scare him away. As you get to know each other, it will become more obvious how to proceed. Let me know how the dinner goes…and don't forget to bring the wine._

That last phrase ought to let Derek know (if this WAS Derek) that Stiles was onto him and maybe he would stop with the letter writing.

He also got an idea for his human interest story which he thought he could work into a serial, tentatively titled 'Modern relationships in a Modern world, the personal journey of an intrepid adventurer in unfamiliar territory.'

He got in a few pages of notes before it was time to quit. Stiles caught the train home to get to work on dinner.

He had mostly unpacked by now and set up the IKEA furniture, his television and video game systems and DVDs, his stereo and knick-knacks. He hadn't gotten to his books yet, and the open boxes sat in front of his empty bookshelf, but it was too late to do anything now.

The steaks were set to marinade (a bath of Worcestshire Sauce, salt, seasoned salt, pepper and additional spices) after Stiles had stabbed it a few dozen times with a fork. After putting them on the broiler, he made his special home-fried potatoes (garlic powder and seasoned salt) and was just finishing up the salad (Romaine lettuce, Craisins, Raspberry vinaigrette dressing, chopped walnuts, crumbled blue cheese and chopped pear) when the doorbell rang. Its harsh cry made him jump and he barely saved the salad from a fatal fall. Forcing himself to remain calm, he took off his apron (it read 'Kiss the Cook'…Derek might just take him up on it) and answered the door.

Derek stood there, his perfect beard trimmed to perfection and dressed in casual but expensive looking clothes. He held an old looking bottle of wine in an ice-filled engraved bucket and two crystal goblets in his hands.

"I bet you thought I'd forget the wine," he said by way of greeting. Stiles stuck out a hand for Derek to shake, then realized that the werewolf's hands were full and instead just waved the awkward hand inward. Derek stayed out in the hall looking pointedly down at the dark line of powdered ash that still lay across his threshold. Derek wasn't even in the door and Stiles already wanted to die of embarrassment.

"One minute." He ran and got his Mini-Vac and sucked up the offending Ash from the doorway. "God, I am so sorry, I forgot all about it…"

Derek waved a hand. "It's nothing." He stepped inside and closed his eyes as he inhaled the aromas of the delicious food. "That smells amazing. You know, the way to a werewolf's heart is through his stomach.

"I figured that," Stiles grinned at him. "Hey, how did you know that I would even be…I mean I never really admitted…"

Derek smirked and tapped his nose again. Stiles flushed brightly. Werewolves had a totally unfair advantage in the dating world. Derek uncorked the wine bottle to let it breathe (thank God he brought his own opener; Stiles didn't yet have one) and took off his jacket. The werewolf was wearing a mild cologne that mixed incredibly with his natural scent and the leather jacket. _Two_ totally unfair advantages.

Stiles put some biscuits in the oven and served the salad. The potatoes were done and the steaks just needed a few minutes more, and there would be a store-bought Tiramisu and hazelnut coffee for dessert.

"Wow, Stiles…I'm not a fan of salad, but this is pretty good." Derek devoured it quickly while Stiles rushed to catch up.

Stiles beamed at Derek's praise. "I always had to try to get my Dad to eat healthy…he hates salads more than anyone, but he likes these. Hold on, the biscuits are done."

He pulled out the aromatic buttermilk biscuits and then realized with horror that he'd forgotten to get butter.

"Er…about the biscuits…"

Derek stood up. "Be right back." He jogged off to his own apartment and was back in a few minutes.

"Oh, thanks…damn, so much for the perfect dinner!"

Derek gave him a serious look. "It _is_ perfect. Stop worrying and let's eat."

Stiles took Derek's steak out first, correctly guessing that Derek liked it rarer than Stiles. Biscuits and potatoes were devoured with relish, and Derek poured the wine while Stiles set down the steaks.

"Hale Vineyards? Wow, that's a hundred years old!"

"My family has a lot of diverse businesses all over the world. The vineyards are in France."

Stiles took a sip. He was no wine connoisseur, but it was delicious and went right to his head. He gulped the rest down.

"Easy there, tiger. That's potent stuff. You might already be legally forbidden from driving." Derek drank his down and poured them a second glass. They drank slowly while finishing their steaks. They decided to have dessert and coffee later and finished the bottle while Stiles talked about his upbringing in Beacon Hills and the friends he had left behind and the mother who died when he was young. Derek filled him in on his own fascinating history…he was from a clan of born werewolves that had come over from Europe with the early settlers, and Stiles wished he could have been allowed to write down what it was like growing up in a family with such an amazing secret. Born wolves were unable to change until they hit puberty, so Derek had to put up with his older siblings besting him at every sport until he came into his own birthright. They had to be very careful to conceal themselves from the notice of Hunters who were sometimes rabid about killing any supernatural creature they found. Derek mentioned his quest to find the perfect anchor, which was different for every werewolf so that he could control his change even when the moon was full and bright. Finally, he described how difficult it was to have any kind of social or romantic life. Werewolves as a species were pretty rare, and though the Alphas had the ability to recruit members with a bite, this was a dangerous proposition. An adult bitten would have none of the learned control of the born wolves and usually had to be trained for years before they could be allowed out in human society. Even then, sometimes the Turned would wind up using their abilities in ways that were…unpleasant. Derek refused to elaborate, turning the conversation back over to Stiles and asking him about his dating history.

Stiles was hesitant. "Hmm…well, that's a little personal, but you have shared a lot with me so…"

"I already know you're bi…so am I."

"In theory, maybe. In practice…I'm more asexual."

Derek's eyes widened. "You mean you're a…"

"God, don't say the V-word."

Derek seemed stunned by this revelation. Stiles filled in the gap in the conversation.

"I was in love with this one girl Lydia, for years. She used to look at me like…like I was…" Stiles couldn't say the word. He tried hard not to let anyone know how damaged his self-esteem had become from years of rejection.

"Then I had a crush on this guy, not nearly as heavy as I had for Lydia but still strong…and they started dating. Jackson…he was the guy…I think he knew I had feelings for him. It became like a big joke to them, and they rubbed it in my face every chance they got. They told everybody, and even my friends started to pity me. When Jackson and Lydia started sending me pictures of them dancing at parties or boating on his yacht…well, it got to be too much and that's why I moved out here. To start over, start fresh."

Derek's mouth was open, and he looked pretty angry.

"What…_assholes…_I don't know you that well, but I already think you're…" Derek stopped himself.

"What? You think I'm what?" Stiles was bursting with curiosity.

"You don't know what you are? I never met a hot guy that didn't know he was hot."

Stiles laughed. "I'm hot? Oh, come on."

"Hot doesn't begin to describe what you are. I wish you were one of us…then you could hear that I'm telling the truth. There's something I need to tell you, Stiles."

"What?" Stiles felt the wine-induced good humor drain out of him. Derek looked almost grim.

"Werewolves are…dual creatures. We use the wolf's powers when we need to, but it _is_ a separate consciousness that takes over on the full moon. For werewolves who date other werewolves, it's so much easier because the wolves recognize each other and…let's just say they almost always approve…and make it easier for the human halves to have a normal relationship. When a werewolf dates a _human_, well…take you and me. I know when _I _like someone, but my wolf is really picky since there isn't a wolf inside the human for it to…bond with. If _I_ want to date someone human, _both_ halves have to feel the attraction. There are a few people that the wolf would allow, but for whom I feel _no attraction_. Then there are people that I want to have a relationship with, but my wolf rejects."

"Wow…can you just…ignore your wolf and date who you want?"

"I did that, once. It ended very badly."

Stiles thought he would say more, but he only finished his wine and stood up.

"I should go. I had a really nice time with you Stiles."

The wine had jacked up Stiles' impulsivity by a factor of ten. He grabbed Derek's hand in his own and squeezed.

"Derek, please tell me what happened."

Derek looked in his eyes for a few minutes and sat down again.

He put his face in his hands, as if he could not bear to look at Stiles while he made this confession.

"Her name was Kate. I liked her…she was beautiful, intelligent, confident and talented. Over time, I fell completely in love with her. The wolf…well, it hated her on sight. Not indifference, which is pretty common…this was pure raging fury. I couldn't see her for any of the days before and after the moon for fear I would change and try to harm her. It never reacted to anyone that way before. I fought against myself for months to keep it going, but without an anchor it was hard to keep the wolf completely in line. One day she asked me what was wrong, and I told her. I told her everything. We drank, and she must have put something in my glass…"

Derek broke off, and Stiles was startled to see that he was crying. Instinctively, he moved his chair next to the other man and hugged him tight. Derek leaned his face into Stiles' shoulder. Derek had never before seemed so vulnerable and fragile. It was hard to imagine that part of him was a killing machine.

"Derek, you don't have to say anymore, I'm so sorry I asked you to keep going…"

Derek recovered himself slowly and pulled back from Stiles. "No…it's okay. It feels pretty good to talk to someone about it. I think I needed that."

Derek wiped at his eyes with a napkin before continuing in a more normal tone of voice.

"Kate drugged me…she was a Hunter, one of those that kill my kind. She got her team together, and they went after my family. They burned our house…they got both my parents, and one of my sisters. Another survived, along with an uncle. The Hunters were destroyed, and the Alpha mantle fell to me since I was next in line. Kate had intended to bring me back to her masters to study, and torture, maybe even to experiment on. My sister and uncle found me and got me out of there, but when they heard what I'd done…"

"Did they disown you? Throw you out of the family or clan or Pack or whatever? Sorry if I'm using the wrong words."

"That was the irony. They couldn't throw me out. I was the Alpha. Without me, they become weaker. They could have killed me and taken it for themselves, but they would never do that. Instead, they were forced to bow in respect to someone that caused the destruction of a family that had survived for hundreds of years. So I left them. My uncle runs the businesses, my sister travels to maintain them, and every few months we meet to reaffirm the bonds that make us a Pack."

"I'm sorry…God Derek, I am so sorry," Stiles hugged him again and stroked the broad muscular back.

They stood up, and when Stiles wobbled on his feet and Derek swayed on his, they both realized how drunk they were. Stiles took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom where he began peeling off Derek's clothes.

"Uh, isn't this a bit soon?" A ghost of Derek's former humor crossed his face.

"Don't be silly. You are staying here with me tonight, there is no way I am letting you be alone after hearing all of that. You'd probably just wallow in misery and wreck your apartment or do something dangerous."

Stiles stripped down to his boxers and gasped when Derek stripped down to nothing and got in beside him.

"Sorry, can't sleep with anything on." He rolled on his side and faced the wall and Stiles could not tell if he was sleeping or not.

Stiles sighed and whipped off his own boxers (they had already seen each other naked after all) before crawling under the blanket with Derek. There was definitely nothing happening tonight, but Stiles had already decided he very much wanted Derek as a boyfriend, had maybe even to begin to fall in love with him a little. But before he could let himself, he had to ask the most important question of all.

"Derek?" he whispered, knowing the werewolf would hear him if he were awake. Derek made no move, made no sound. Stiles asked his question anyway.

"What does your wolf think of me?"

A minute passed by, then two. The wine was hitting Stiles pretty hard by now, and he felt sleep beginning to take him.

Then: "He likes you Stiles. From the moment he saw you on the fire escape, staring in at him under the light of the full moon. You have nothing to fear from him. He wants you…we _both_ do."

A slow smile that was he was powerless to stop spread across the young reporter's face. He molded himself to the strong back in front of him, pressing himself into Derek as if they were just the right puzzle pieces, like Yin and Yang. In the middle of the night they both rolled over, still deeply asleep. Derek's powerful arm pulled Stiles into a tight grip, and Derek made a low growling sound in his throat as his wolf staked its claim.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles woke up the next morning inhaling the Derek's scent of cologne, light sweat and a slight animal musk, the combination of which sent his hormones into overdrive. With difficulty, he was able to free himself from Derek's vise-like grip. The werewolf woke up however and stared groggily at Stiles as he bent over to retrieve his boxers. Derek gave an actual wolf whistle at the sight.

"No…don't put those on," he grumbled.

Stiles looked down at them. "Um, it's embarrassing to walk around like this…especially if you are too. I never learned to control 'little Stiles'.

"He's not so little. Besides, if you're looking at me, I would hope he'd be excited. Please…I just want to keep looking at you."

Now Stiles grumbled, but gave in. He went quickly around the apartment making sure all of the curtains were closed and then went into the kitchen to start breakfast.

"You can shower if you want to," Stiles called.

"After breakfast…and with you," Derek called back.

Stiles smirked again. He actually had Derek, a GQ supermodel type begging to look at his body. Embarrassment was starting to turn into an ego-boost, and the effect of years of Jackson's and Lydia's taunts began to wash away. Derek wandered in and sat down, openly staring at Stiles with predictable physical reactions for both of them. Derek got up and began collecting last night's dishes and washing them in the sink. Stiles dried and put them away, but took a moment to swat Derek on the butt with the dishtowel.

"Harder, next time." Derek muttered. The next swat was not the only thing that got harder.

The nudity became less weird as Stiles stopped thinking about it. He did wear the apron while he cooked Derek some bacon and eggs, but Derek whipped it off of him as soon as they were done.

They ate at a leisurely pace since Stiles did not have to be at work for another three hours. After, they brushed their teeth side by side and hopped in the shower where they took extra care to scrub each other squeaky clean. This led to a heavy make-out session and soapy-body-grinding. As high as Stiles was on lust hormones, he resisted the temptation to take it further. He truly wanted to get to know Derek, and he felt that a rush into the carnal side of things might derail a more permanent bond. Derek made no effort to push things, letting Stiles decide the pace. It made Stiles feel good that Derek thought he was worth waiting for.

At last, showered and clean, the two reluctantly got dressed to leave and start their days.

They stood in the open doorway, Derek looking deep into Stiles' eyes with Stiles slowly learning to meet that gaze unflinchingly. Another lengthy kiss, and they broke apart.

"Thank you for dinner…and breakfast."

"Sorry we didn't get a chance to have dessert." Stiles smirked at him.

"We can have dessert next time," Derek winked at him.

"Am _I _going to be your dessert?" Stiles asked in mockery of an earlier conversation.

"Yes," Derek said simply. "And I'll be yours. I have a place in upstate New York…it's a private place…pool, hot tub…high walls to block out prying eyes…I'd like you to come up there with me."

"Um, I…" Stiles stammered.

"Think about it. No pressure." Derek turned and walked away leaving Stiles staring after him.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're disgustingly chipper this morning. Am I paying you too much?" Brynn seemed to teleport in from nowhere, causing Stiles to jump spastically.

"No, Brynn…and I think I'm going to ask Human Resources to make you wear a bell," he snarked back.

"They won't listen. Their motto is "you can't spell 'Who Cares' without HR.' So what's with the goofy grin?"

"Nothing! Er, well…I met somebody and…well I think he's sort of out of my league, but he acts like he's crazy about me. I'm not used to that sort of attention. He wants me to go away with him this weekend…and he probably expects, you know, things to happen."

"Oh, sorry, I lost interest about five seconds into that." She peered at his computer screen. "What the hell is that?"

"That's my first article, it's just about done. I decided to serialize what it's like for a small town guy to date in the big city."

"Well, at least you realize your readers will be made up of idiots. I'll ok this, but I want a photo so the readers have something to look at. Report to Lana's studio immediately so she could snap you. She knows what I like, so do whatever she says. Begone."

{}{}{}{}

Stiles had never been so embarrassed in his whole life. He stood in front of a farm backdrop wearing faded overalls with one strap deliberately left hanging down exposing a nip, a straw hat on his head and a pitchfork in one hand.

"Is this really necessary? I said I was from a small town, not 'Green Acres'. I look like a hillbilly!" He shuffled his bare feet through the fake hay Lana had scattered on the floor.

Lana was a curvaceous brunette in a form-fitting dress. Stiles was amazed it didn't split whenever she moved. She was in her mid-30's and fighting it every step of the way with suggestive clothing and make-up.

"Something's missing…" She walked away and came back with a wheat stem which she stuck in his mouth. "Let it dangle, yeah just like that. Now try to look like someone just tried to explain the theory of relativity to you…like your usual expression, but dumber. Great!"

Lana snapped off a few dozen photos.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles walked into his apartment and left the lights off, just sitting there in the dark. His article and photo were published online that evening and would appear in paper tomorrow. What if Derek saw it? Now that Stiles thought about it, he didn't remember if he even mentioned what his job was to Derek. Stiles prayed he never, ever picked up the _Urban Gazette._

His Mac beeped; Stiles had left Facebook open, and he saw that there were a few dozen messages on there. A sick feeling rising in his throat, Stiles went over to look. Dear Lord…

His father regularly updated his Facebook page, and only the day before had posted about how proud he was that Stiles was working as a journalist in NYC. Apparently all of his old friends began following the Sheriff and were regularly checking up on the _Gazette's_ website to watch his progress. Of course, Jackson and Lydia had already seen the farm-boy photo (not to mention his musings on dating a guy out of his league) and sent him a few messages. There were some from his father, too. Stiles shut the monitor before a single one of those comments burned its way into his memory forever.

He had to get away from all of this.

{}{}{}{}

Derek opened the door almost before Stiles knocked.

"Hey, sunshine. What-" Derek looked surprised when Stiles barged into his apartment and flopped down on the nearest couch.

"When did you want to go upstate? I know it's only Thursday, but can we leave tonight?" Stiles tried not to sound desperate.

Derek's mouth opened and closed. "Um, yeah about that…"

Stiles' heart sank. "You changed your mind about bringing me…never mind, I understand. I thought this was a little surreal anyway. I'll see you around, and I'll keep my promise not to tell anyone."

Stiles got up and started walking towards the door. Derek slammed it shut and blocked it with his body.

"Stiles, I am not flaking out on you or breaking up with you. I still want to bring you upstate with me. It's just that my uncle and sister will be there on Saturday. It's going to be uncomfortable, and I didn't want you to feel weird or out of place. We have to do one of those bonding things I was telling you about. It shouldn't take long…but I also hadn't gotten around to telling them about you yet."

"Oh…do you…not want anyone to know about me?" Stiles was still embarrassed about his new notoriety, but it hurt a little to think Derek might want to keep him a secret.

"No, of course I do! It's just that…they don't exactly think I'm a good judge of character when it comes to sharing the family secret, so it might be a good idea if you…sort of…pretended…that you think I'm human." Derek's face turned almost as red as his wolf-eyes.

Stiles started to breathe easier. "Oh, no problem, I totally understand. But, didn't you tell me that you guys can tell when someone is lying?"

"Yeah, but I don't see them actually asking you if you know I'm a werewolf. I should be honest with you…my uncle lost his wife in that fire, and my sister lost her boyfriend along with the rest of our family. Since then, they have treated anyone I have ever dated like crap…I think they feel deep down that I deserve to be miserable and alone forever. Maybe not so deep down."

Stiles hesitated. His nerves were raw after today, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to give even more people, especially wolfy people, a shot at ripping him apart. With Derek's family, it could be literal.

"I don't know, Derek…I really just wanted to be alone with you. If you only knew what's been going on at my job…"

Derek looked like he wanted to kick himself. Then he brightened.

"Maybe we should leave tonight…we'll have Friday to ourselves, you could spend Saturday in town if you want and I'll come get you when they leave. Then we'll have Saturday night and Sunday to do whatever we want."

From the way his eyes smoldered, Derek had a few ideas about what they might want to so. Stiles felt things shifting around below the belt at the thought. He gave Derek a wicked grin.

"Let's leave now."

Derek grinned back at him. "You want to pack anything? Clothes?"

"Nah, don't think I'll be needing them."

Derek actually growled at that.

They left Manhattan behind, only stopping at a diner so they could pick up some food…to go. By nightfall, they were pulling up to a set of iron gates set in a high stone wall that surrounded a large piece of property. Derek hit a button on a remote device attached to the visor of his Camaro (and oh boy did Stiles love Derek's bad-boy car) and they watched the gate slowly open. They pulled through and it clanked shut behind them while Derek drove up the circular drive and screeched to a halt. He was out of the car and hauling Stiles out of the passenger seat in seconds, Stiles laughing out loud at Derek's eagerness. This is what it felt like to be desired, to be wanted completely…it was addicting in a way.

The house was huge, an old Victorian with multiple floors and dozens of windows, gables and ornate embellishments. Derek led Stiles around the back to the Olympic sized swimming pool with attached hot tub. Derek set the water to bubbling then pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. Stiles did the same, and they just stood there looking at each other for a few moments. Stiles reached for the buckle of his jeans when Derek (moving impossibly fast) stopped him gently with his hand.

"Please…let me." Derek knelt down in front of Stiles and slowly unbuckled the belt, gently unbuttoning his jeans in the same motion, keeping his eyes locked onto Stiles the whole time. The jeans fell down around Stiles' ankles, a cool breeze hitting parts of him not usually susceptible to their touch. Derek pulled off his sneakers and socks so that Stiles could step out of the jeans. All of the clothing was gathered and tossed over Derek's shoulder. It had long ceased being embarrassing to be bare in front of Derek, the worshipful look alone made it an ego boost.

Stiles pulled Derek to his feet and got on his knees to undress him, making sure that Derek knew the attraction was mutual. He was tempted to start things right then and there, but the anticipation was too delicious. He leaned his cheek against the rampant source of Derek's heat, inhaling the deeply personal scent with closed eyes (it was almost too beautiful to look at). Stiles teased Derek by breathing against him, promising more, so much more in the near future…but just not now. Derek groaned, and it seemed to come from his very soul.

"Stiles, please…"

But Stiles was enjoying being the master of this particular game, and he rose to his feet, waiting for Derek to make the slightest moan of disappointment before suddenly grasping him firmly. Derek jumped, trying to hump himself into Stiles' hand. Stiles cupped him with the other, gently cradling him as he stroked, feeling the smooth skin and coarse hair, wondering what it would be like to use his mouth instead of his hands, wondering what it would be like to taste Derek, to turn him inside out and swallow him down…

There was a growl, and Stiles was pushed backward onto the wet grass. Derek's eyes were glowing red, and his teeth and claws were out. Yesterday, this might have scared the shit out of Stiles, but he knew that this was just another part of Derek that desired him just as deeply.

"Not yet, Alpha…" Stiles met the crimson gaze steadily. The growl stopped, almost turned into a whine. He stood up again, walking over and running his hands over Derek's shifted face. The killer teeth vanished, and Derek stepped back with a shocked look on his face.

"Stiles…how did you…"

Then Stiles was kissing him, and leading him towards the bubbling hot tub.

"If I'm your mate...and I'm your wolf's mate too…then you both take care of me and treat me like I deserve to be treated. I promise I'll return the favor."

The confusion left Derek's face as he just decided to let Stiles run this part of the show.

"Stiles…I can't promise that the wolf will always listen to you…we're an Alpha, for fuck's sake."

"You're listening this time…besides, that's what makes it fun!"

Derek shrugged, still unsure of what to think about what just happened. The Alpha got in first, groaning in pleasure as the heat seemed to soak into his muscles. He helped Stiles in, then sat down and pulled Stiles to his chest. Derek gave him a slow massage, finding many knots in his tense muscles to slowly work loose with his hands. Now it was Stiles' turn to groan, enjoying Derek's ministrations as the strong hands moved lower and lower. Stiles turned around then, sitting on Derek's lap and locking his legs around the Alpha's hips. They kissed, and Derek was surprised at what seemed to be unleashed in a boy that claimed to have little to no experience with sex of any kind. Derek moved forward, keeping their position but now pressing Stiles back against the wall of the hot tub, pressing into him, trying to find a way inside…

"No…there's other things I want you to do first," Stiles whispered. He stood slowly and looked down at Derek still mostly submerged in the boiling water. Derek made to rise, but was distracted by a part of Stiles that just broke the surface. Derek seemed mesmerized at the sight and glanced up once at Stiles as if to ask permission. That low involuntary whine broke from his throat.

"Yeah…do it, Derek. You'll know when to stop. Um…watch the teeth, if you know what I mean."

Derek did as he was told with wild abandon. Stiles thought Derek was going to pull his sanity out of the length of flesh encased in Derek's mouth. The suction was rhythmic and powerful, and Stiles knew he wouldn't be able to stand long against it…not that he wanted to. When it finally happened, Stiles gave a shuddering cry as muscles he didn't know he had snapped taut and released. He staggered out of the hot tub dripping wet and fell into the cool grass before looking up into the sky and noticing the thousands of stars that were hidden from him in the city.

There was a growl from the hot tub, and the sound of wet feet…or perhaps paws…slapping against the tub before they padded softly into the grass.

Stiles got on all fours facing away from Derek, or whatever Derek had become.

"Do it, Derek…take what's yours, what I'm giving to you," the idea that what was about to happen could be very painful, and possibly lethal for some reason only made him more excited. "Do it…but get me ready first and b-be careful." The slight tremor in his voice did not go unnoticed by the beast. At last, some uncertainty in the surprisingly dominating human.

Stiles felt the hot tongue beginning to open him up, a tongue that felt larger than a human usually possessed. He gave himself over to the unbelievable sensation, burying his face in the cool grass and willing himself to open for any part of Derek the Alpha felt like shoving in there. Stiles reached over and pulled the weave belt from his jeans. For what was going to happen next, Stiles wanted Derek to feel like he was completely in control. He tossed the belt towards the Alpha without looking back, and with his face still in the grass he crossed his wrists behind his back. There was a growl of approval from the beast, and Stiles felt himself bound by long clever fingers that ended in sharp claws. The beast returned to Stiles' preparation, but in what felt like too soon a time, a fur covered body moved between his legs, the hair tickling the bare skin of his legs. Stiles was about to be owned in every way possible. He was terrified. He was impatient for Derek to begin.

The hair covered body leaned over him, fur covered arms caging him in. Words that struggled to emerge from an inhuman throat rumbled in his ear.

"It might be better for you if I started this as a human."

"No…do it the way you are…make me _feel_ it, Derek. And no matter what you hear…"

Derek's length pressed against him and began to push inward. The stretching began.

"What?" the gruff voice spat, sounding impatient and even less human than before.

"Just…don't stop."

Another second of hesitation, and Stiles was screaming as he felt himself come truly alive for the first time in his entire life. It was brutal and mercifully quick, but he had never felt so wanted.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles blinked in what could not possibly be morning sunlight. Birds were singing, for crying out loud. Stiles stretched and shifted in the grass wet with morning dew. Derek lay nearby, human and naked and in a deep black sleep. Grumbling, Stiles sat up and yawned, his back crackling from sleeping on the ground. He was covered in dirt and yeah, other stuff. Derek was apparently equipped with a fire hose.

Stiles hissed as the soreness from last night hit him. Ah well, no one had ever promised him a rose garden. He walked over to one of the outdoor showers that surrounded the pool and hosed himself off. Derek had rolled over, giving Stiles a spectacular view of his backside, which he decided to enjoy from the hot tub. The warmth was heaven, and he relaxed into the jets that pounded into his sore muscles.

Derek woke up at the sound of the bubbling jets and glanced over at Stiles with a wide-eyed look. Stiles waved him over.

"Get in, silly. Mornings are cold, even in summer."

Derek dropped in beside him, but he was still looking a bit freaked out by Stiles.

"What's the matter, Derek?"

"Are you …okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?"

"I never…I never let myself go like that with anyone before. Stiles you could have been hurt!"

"Derek, you didn't hurt me in any way that I didn't want to be hurt. I'm fine, no permanent damage, and if I ever decided to write erotica, I could turn last night into a best seller."

Stiles didn't want to have this kind of conversation the morning after mind blowing sex, so he just moved close to Derek and leaned his face on his chest. Derek took the hint and stopped asking silly questions, holding Stiles close to him as afraid he would disappear.

Now and then, Stiles would look up and place a soft kiss on the Alpha's lips before leaning his head down again and listening to the wonderful sound of Derek's heartbeat.

When they'd had enough of the hot tub, they showered together in the outdoor shower and dried each other off with some towels from the pool house. Stiles left his clothing behind as Derek gave him a tour of the house. At this point, Stiles was mainly interested in the kitchen, so Derek took the hint and made pancakes from one of those mixes where you only add water, along with some frozen orange juice.

"Sorry, didn't have a chance to get fresh groceries,"

"Arghjlklkeufihrf," Stiles told him around a mouthful of pancakes.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles got dessert in the afternoon when he decided to take Derek in his mouth while they were sunning themselves by the pool. There was something amazing about doing this outdoors in full sunlight, and Stiles marveled at how brazen he was becoming. He swallowed down everything Derek had to give (and he had a great deal to give), leaving Derek too drained to resist when Stiles rolled him over and did his best to 'prepare' Derek for what Stiles wanted. Derek didn't resist when Stiles pushed his way inside and slowly built himself up to a wrenching climax.

"Thought you might not let me do that," Stiles whispered in his ear afterward.

"I will never say 'no' to you. Do whatever you want, whenever you want…as long as I get to do the same."

"Will your wolf ever say 'no'?"

"If he were going to, the last forty minutes wouldn't have happened."

Derek sat up and looked Stiles in the eyes. "He's chosen you, Stiles. You're our mate. There won't be anyone else."

"So, what are we gay-werewolf-married?" Stiles asked, half-smiling.

"Sort of. You have to decide how you feel about it. We could go like this forever…or you could walk away at any time. I can't. It's you, or it's no one."

The half-smile faded away. "Derek, this is still so new…"

"Things are different for werewolves. We don't form bonds the way humans do, over time…it happens quick, or not at all. I didn't tell you this to put pressure on you. I just wanted to say…" Derek took a deep breath. "…that if you ever want to fully commit to me, forever, I would need to Turn you. It's not required, and if you never asked for it, that would be your choice…but if you want the Bite, it's yours."

Stiles could not speak. The possibility had never occurred to him.

"Don't give me an answer now," Derek looked like he was on the verge of panic. "Or six months from now, or never if you don't want to. I was just…throwing it out there."

"What about your family? What would they think?"

"I don't need them to turn you, I'm an Alpha. You would be an Alpha's mate, and stronger than them because of it. You'd be as strong as me."

"I don't know, Derek…"

There was a clanging sound from the front hall. Derek cursed.

"They're here, _a day early,_ the bastards."

{}{}{}{}

They hurriedly took another outdoor shower. Stiles groaned when he picked up his t-shirt; it was covered with green grass stains. His shoes and socks were similarly wrecked. His jeans and boxers had somehow managed to stay clean, but his belt was stretched and useless.

"What should I wear, Derek? Your shirts won't fit me!"

"Go shirtless. Don't worry about it; they'll probably think I'm just using you for sex."

Derek ran to his room to grab some clothing which he hurriedly put on.

"Great. What should I do? Be friendly? Make myself scarce?"

"No, I want you near me. Let's just…try not to rub it in their faces that I'm happy. They like it better when I'm moody and miserable." Derek looked pretty miserable already.

"Not too happy…got it."

They were already parked in the driveway. Technically they should have waited to be invited in by their Alpha, but they liked to test their limits with him. The front door opened and a tall handsome thirtyish man walked in, followed by a morose looking young girl that Stiles guessed was in her early twenties. They sniffed the air and immediately focused with laser-like attention on Stiles. The girl especially seemed intensely interested in him.

"Uncle Peter, Cora, welcome. Hope you two are well." Derek had changed into a rather tight set of jeans and a grey t-shirt with patent leather shoes. Stiles was shirtless and barefoot, and the missing belt caused the jeans to ride low on his hips, exposing the waistband of his boxers. He felt even more ridiculous than when he posed for Lana in overalls. Deep inside him, he felt a pulse of anger at constantly feeling embarrassed around people, but he had only himself to blame; it was his idea not to bring extra clothes.

Peter looked at him with an infuriating smirk. "Hello, nephew. You have a new friend I see. Rather proud of himself, is he?"

Stiles reddened, from shame or anger he didn't know.

"He's more than a friend, uncle. And I thought we could have our meeting by the pool." Derek said with a glance at Stiles.

Cora spoke up. Stiles hated her voice the second he heard it. "Oh, he's a new _toy_. Well, he seems harmless enough, not that you were ever a good judge. Don't leave him unattended like the last one, brother. I'd hate to have to _put him away_ for you_._"

Cora suddenly barged past them, shoving Derek and actually body-checking Stiles who fell backward over the couch.

"Can't _fucking_ keep it in his pants for one goddamned weekend," she muttered as she stormed down the hallway.

Derek helped Stiles to his feet. Derek looked furious and miserable at the same time, which was quite a trick requiring impossible contortions of various facial muscles.

"I'm so sorry," mouthed Derek silently.

Stiles didn't trust himself to speak, giving just a short jerk of his head to let Derek know he was alright.

Peter approached then, and Stiles tensed himself for another body-check. Peter gave him one, but with his eyes instead of his shoulder.

"Fascinating specimen, Derek. I approve. He definitely looks…agreeable. Maybe I'll borrow him later…" Peter's eyes suddenly shot blue fire. "…if you're not too _attached_ to him, that is." The amused look returned, and Peter walked by and only groped Stiles for a few seconds in passing. Stiles swatted his hand away, and Peter's throaty laugh echoed back as he went down the hall to his room. Derek was hiding his face in his hands.

{}{}{}{}

Derek fired up the barbeque and tossed on about a dozen burgers and hot dogs from the meat freezer in the basement. In a show of solidarity, Derek had changed into a bathing suit and turned Stiles' jeans into cut-offs with a pair of scissors and replaced the missing belt. Cora was wearing a revealing bikini, only slightly smaller than Peter's Speedo that Stiles wondered why he bothered wearing.

They were both very attractive, and would have been more so if Cora would stop scowling and Peter would stop leering. Stiles pondered a life where he would have to put up with these two forever, and his mind promptly shut down at the thought. He wanted to look at Derek and that perfect chiseled body, but staring might give away Stiles' feelings to them which he flatly refused to do. He settled for relaxing on an inflatable raft with dark sunglasses on, away from Peter's eager hands. The uncle was talking earnestly to his nephew in a low voice by the grill. Cora was on the diving board for another Olympic-worthy pin-point splash dive. Stiles ignored her until she swam past him in the water, almost shark-like in her silent predatory way. Then one of her claws punctured the raft. Accidentally, of course.

Stiles sighed as the water began to swallow him up. The men failed to notice him, and Stiles didn't want to draw any more embarrassing attention. He decided to leave the pool and the punctured raft behind for Cora to chew on if she felt like it.

A clawed hand pulled him underwater before he had time to scream. There was barely a ripple or splash. Stiles' last sight was Peter glancing over at him, and then back to Derek as if nothing was happening.

He disappeared beneath a red cloud in the water as blackness took him.

{}{}{}{}

In the dream, Derek was kissing him when Stiles coughed into his mouth. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't stop coughing. In fact, his lungs were on fire. The coughing became retching and choking, and Stiles heaved and spewed a gutful of chlorine-flavored water from his mouth.

"Stiles! Stiles are you alright?" Derek's voice was wracked with worry, his face white with terror.

Stiles coughed some more, trying to catch his breath through the searing pain in his chest. He couldn't speak, but he was able to look around for a few seconds with red, burning eyes. Peter stood nearby sporting five deep gashes across his chest. Cora was covered in bite and scratch marks, and her left arm appeared to be broken from the way she was clutching it to her chest. They both looked angry and sullen…and just a little bit guilty.

Derek gathered Stiles up in his arms and moved towards his homicidal relatives.

"Get the fuck out of my way," he growled at them. Even Stiles felt the Alpha command in his voice. They parted, and Stiles stared at them, his dark eyes meeting their glowing sapphire blue.

"Never saw him get like _that_ before…" Cora whispered to Peter before Derek carried Stiles out of earshot.

Derek carried him up stairs, down hallways into a room almost at the very top of the house. It was enormous, with a huge four-poster bed. There was a large attached bathroom nearby. The door was ornate, beautifully carved wood on the inside, but the outside was heavy iron; not even a werewolf would be able to get through it.

"This was a safe room for the humans in the family on our bad nights."

Derek went to a small fridge built into the wall and took out some bottles of water which he put on the nightstand beside the bed. Then Derek went and got some bandages from the bathroom and wrapped them around Stiles' forearm, which Stiles only just noticed was bleeding. Cora must have sliced into him when she pulled him under. Derek sat on the edge of the bed, unable to look at Stiles.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I'll take you home if you want. I'll never bother you again, and I'll see that they leave you alone too."

Stiles still could not speak. He wasn't sure what he would say if he could. He struggled to get out of his wet cutoffs which were soaking into the sheets. Derek stood and tried to help him, but Stiles swatted him away. He didn't want to be touched just now.

Stiles finally freed himself from the cutoffs and boxers and hurled them across the room where they knocked a vase off a tiny table in front of a window. The vase shattered into a million pieces, and Stiles crawled under the blanket to a dry part of the mattress and closed his eyes. Derek stayed with him until he fell asleep.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles woke up in darkness, his throat on fire. He reached blindly for the light switch and managed to find it by pure luck. Derek was somewhere below with his homicidal freak relatives, probably. Stiles still felt wet and gross, so he took a hot shower and vowed that when he was done he was not going to be wet again anytime soon. He was done with showers, baths, hot tubs and swimming pools for a while. He dried himself vigorously with a clean towel and plopped into a chair, pondering the fact that he had almost died this evening.

His father told him that it was like this…you never knew when death was going to come for you. Every officer that went out on a call wondered somewhere in the back of their mind if this was it, the night their number came up. Stiles worried himself sick over his father, but never imagined that death might come for the younger Stilinski instead.

He didn't like these thoughts.

Stiles looked out the window which had a great view of the driveway. Only Derek's Camaro was there, and he tried not to sigh in relief.

He tried the door, and it opened readily, realizing it could only be locked from the inside…there was no keyhole on the outside of the door.

Derek was asleep on the floor outside the doorway. Stiles looked down at him, trying to figure out what he felt for the Alpha.

_'He stayed outside…he didn't think he deserved to be in the room.'_

The inner voice came from nowhere, but Stiles didn't doubt it for a moment. Derek didn't even allow himself a pillow to be comfortable.

"Derek," Stiles' voice was a raw whisper.

The Alpha snapped awake and was on his feet and looking at him with panicked eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" was all he asked.

A dozen answers went through his mind, not all of them nice. Then: "Come inside with me,"

Derek came in and shut the door behind him, locking it firmly. He sniffed the bed and wrinkled his nose, quickly walking over and stripping the damp chlorine-smelling sheets off and replacing them with clean ones from a bureau. The wet bedding was dropped down a laundry chute built into the wall that Stiles hadn't noticed. When the bed was remade, Stiles got back in, sighing with relief at the feeling of being dry. Derek waited by the bed, like a butler ready for his next orders.

Stiles rubbed the sheets. "Lay down with me. Please."

Derek's face just…broke. There was no other way to describe it. He looked so relieved that he wasn't going to be sent away that Stiles warmed up to him even more. He was reminded again of how much Derek cared for him, worshipped him almost. He had ripped apart his two remaining family members for Stiles.

_'He should have killed them.'_ came that weird inner voice again.

Derek shucked his bathing suit and crawled into the bed. Stiles let Derek spoon into him, enjoying the raw heat that sprang from the Alpha's body. Against his will, he started smiling.

"Sty, I am so god damned sorry…"

"It wasn't your fault, Derek." Stiles noticed his voice was beginning to come back.

"It was, I let them near you, I turned my back on you, didn't see what Cora was up to…"

"Derek…drop it. You saved me; that's all that matters. You were there for me when I needed you."

Derek leaned his face into Stiles' back, even sniffling a few times. "I thought for sure you were done with me. I want to carve an apology into my own skin with my claws. I want to make it scar so you always know."

Stiles sighed. "I like your skin unscarred. It's enough. Don't you see this is what they wanted? Either I died, or I lived and wanted to get away from you. This was their revenge. Well you know what? They don't get to have it. I'm alive, and I'm still with you. We are going to be the most sickeningly happy couple in the world…and we _are_ going to rub their faces in it but good."

Derek gave a small laugh. "Yes. Anything."

They talked some more and fell asleep again, far more deeply than when they were alone.

{}{}{}{}

They were alone together Saturday and Sunday, and spent the days holding hands and the nights curled into each other, but sexual intimacy was off the table for the time being. They fished on a boat at a nearby lake, they explored trails through the woods, and they went shopping in town and bought food to cook (and some extra clothing for Stiles to wear). They read books together in the library, and watched TV in the living room. Derek played the guitar, Stiles the piano. There were even a few songs they both knew, and playing them together was amazing experience for him.

All too soon the weekend came to an end. Despite almost being killed, the Alpha had taken up residence in a dusty, long-unused chamber of Stiles' heart. Stiles was falling in love with both the man and the wolf, and both seemed to be equally enamored of him. Derek drove them back to the city and they spent the trip in silence, though their fingers remained intertwined the whole way. It irked Stiles that Peter and Cora had spoiled what would have been an otherwise perfect weekend. He resolved that they would never get the jump on him again. He didn't know what it meant to have a Spark yet, but he would throw himself into researching it like he never had before with anything else in his life. If they came for him again, he would be ready for them.

{}{}{}{}

There was a pile of mail on his desk that Monday, as well as reams of printed comments from his article. New York City was in the throes of Stiles Madness. There were love letters galore from men and women alike, all promising to make his 'dating adventure' something he would never forget. His picture had been a smashing success, and people sent him their own...many of them were tasteful, some were scandalous, and a few were…really disturbing.

The advice column had to be put on hold; it was impossible to find genuine questions in the thousands of fan letters.

_Dear Stiles; What is the easiest way to get into your pants?_

_ Dear Stiles; I would give anything to carry your baby!_

_ Dear Stiles; I live in a polyamorous relationship with six other people. How would you like to be number 8? Just IMAGINE the possibilities…_

Stiles threw most of them out, making sure they went into the shredder rather than regular garbage.

Brynn pounced him just as he was leaving for lunch.

"Stilinski! Where do you think you're going?" She seemed almost nervous, as if worried Stiles might leave and never come back.

"Er, Panera Bread. Why, can I pick you up anything?" It was a few minutes early, but he was pretty hungry. He hoped Brynn wasn't going to rip him a new one.

She blinked at him for a few seconds as if he had spoken in Klingon.

"Let me take you to lunch, my treat. We have some things to talk about." She snatched her purse and dragged him to the elevators, giving death glares to anyone who tried to talk to them.

Brynn took him to Nobu, which was on the pricier end of things. Brynn didn't order anything, just sat and watched him glance through the menu while he tried to decide. He settled on Beef Teriyaki Donburi. It cost about 4 of his previous lunches combined.

"So, your article was pretty well-received," she began uncertainly.

"Really? Oh, good. I guess I'll continue it then, I have a lot more I want to write anyway."

"You do? Excellent. I guess you spent the weekend with your new man?"

Stiles nodded. Brynn suddenly got a knowing smile on her face. "I thought there was something a little different about you…"

Stiles blushed. "Don't judge me, I'm 26 for crying out loud. I held on to my V-card long enough."

Brynn snickered. "I'm not judging, honey. Far be it from me. In fact, I'd be very interested in meeting the man who finally broke down the Gates of Venus." She stared at him for a minute then. "You really don't know, do you?"

Stiles gazed at her blankly. "Know what?"

"Have you checked your Facebook page? Personal e-mail? Fucking _Twitter_?"

"Nope." Stiles hand reached for his cell phone, curious about what he would find in his social media accounts.

"Stiles, before you look…I may as well tell you. If you're going to leave, you'll leave. You're a sensation! My readership has _quadrupled_, the website keeps crashing because so many people are trying to find out more about you, and I've had other magazines…big ones…asking me frankly how much I'm paying you so that they could make you an offer of double or triple what you're making now."

Stiles took a few minutes to digest this. Then he shrugged. "I'm happy here. Besides, you took a chance on me when absolutely no one was hiring. I owe you. Maybe this is just 15 minutes of fame anyway. You really think my article was that good?"

Brynn took in his words, her eyes actually becoming moist. She reached in her bag and snatched out some tissues.

"Oh, sweetie…I thought it was puerile garbage when I read it, and part of me still thinks it is…but you really struck a chord with our readers. It was the article, it was your picture _and your story_…you've become that underdog that people see as a hero…the last unflinchingly honest and decent man in a corrupt and jaded world. People would watch you peel potatoes with baited breath. I've seen this phenomenon before, and I wish to God I knew how to trigger it…but you did it. Play your cards right, and you'll be able to write your own ticket. You mean it when you say you'll stay? You're not having me on?"

"I'm unflinchingly honest, remember?" Stiles sat back, bemused, thinking about the left handed praise Brynn gave him as well as this unexpected notoriety. This news should have excited him more, and probably would have a week ago, but his mind was still filled with thoughts of Derek…and of being nearly drowned by a crazy werewolf. This just didn't seem that important.

He scratched idly at the bandage on his forearm.

"What's that? God, tell me you're not shooting heroin!" Brynn practically shouted, drawing the eye of everyone in the restaurant.

"What? Are you insane? My dad would kill me! Derek has a…pet that didn't like me too much. It's nothing."

"Derek? Hmm…what do you say we have lunch together tomorrow…just the three of us? Again, my treat. I want to spin a few ideas I have to make some big bucks out of this. What do you say?"

"Er…gee, I don't know. Derek's kind of private. I mean, I'll ask him, but I'm sure he'll say 'no'."

'_I will never say 'no' to you,' _Derek's voice echoed in his head.

"I'll bump your salary up to $600 per week, just to get him here." Brynn looked desperate. "All the other magazines want the scoop on who managed to land you. Please, do this for me and if there is anything I can do for you in return, just name it! My magazine is on the verge of going from cheap rag to household name! I will never have this chance again! Promise me, just get him here!"

"Alright, I will!" Stiles looked down at his half-finished plate. Some foreboding had just killed his appetite. No good was going to come of this.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles spent the rest of the day working on his article and shredding even more fan mail. When he got home that evening, all he wanted to do was relax and veg in front of the television. Just as he got settled in to watch the latest _Game of Thrones_ episode, his doorbell rang. He grumbled, and then brightened thinking it might be Derek. The Alpha said he would drop by later that night after he took care of some business…maybe he couldn't get enough of Stiles and rushed back early. How could Stiles reward him? He chuckled as a thought came to him. Stiles stripped down and put on just his cutoffs from the past weekend. He looked like the male equivalent of Daisy Duke in them, which should be enough to drive the Alpha wild.

The doorbell rang again, and Stiles smirked at the Alpha's impatience.

Adjusting his crotch for maximum effect, Stiles yanked open the door.

"Get in here and get on your knees!"

Lydia and Jackson stood there, stunned. They both looked him up and down in shock.

"Uh, sure…could I have a beer first?" asked Jackson. "I _told_ you he'd be into it, Lydia."

"Fine, I was wrong, whatever." Lydia breezed in. Stiles watched as they began to pull off their clothes.

"What do you want to do first?" Lydia cooed in his ear.


End file.
